


Birdsong

by moodyseal



Series: Memories of Dust and Gold [5]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyseal/pseuds/moodyseal
Summary: Calypso tries to teach Leo how to sing, after his voice caused a disaster.
Relationships: Calypso & Leo Valdez, Calypso/Leo Valdez
Series: Memories of Dust and Gold [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1302707
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: the trials of apollo fic exchange





	Birdsong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acesassinated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesassinated/gifts).



> I have absolutely no music knowledge, the plot of this is completely random (didn’t really know how to fit the prompt) and I’m absurdly late for the exchange, but hopefully you’ll still like it. :’)

When Leo told Calypso that his singing could make Festus’ circuits overload, she didn’t think he meant it _literally_.

The sun was setting, tinting the sky in soft shades of yellow and mauve. There were very few clouds, and rather than being unpleasant splotches of dirt ruining a beautiful landscape, they resembled much more cotton candy, fluffy lilac masses reflecting the dying sun rays.

Calypso knew, of course, that they were just a bunch of water droplets grouped together (her father surely wasn’t among the best, but he did take some time to explain to her how the world worked when she was younger), yet a tiny voice in her head, which she supposed was her teenage instinct slowly coming out of the cave it was hidden in, still kept telling her to try to catch some. She couldn’t say that she wasn’t disappointed when she ended up with cold and empty hands.

She still couldn’t come to grips with the new reality she was living in. She lived in exile for three thousand years, emarginated from the rest of the world and from its history; for long, she had wished for that exile to end, to be able to walk among busy mortals again and relish in the thousands of scents of an Ancient Greek market at least one more time.

Now that she was finally free - now that her cheek was pressed on Leo’s bony shoulder and her arms were wrapped around his waist, the smell of firewood and salt and of fresh laundry blending in together in an almost overwhelming combination - she felt uneasy, like a child lost in a supermarket. Leo told her about the modern world, and although he didn’t share much yet (he promised that he would show it to her instead, as they traveled across the world to get back home) it was still enough to make her head spin.

She hadn’t noticed that she was singing until Leo pointed it out. “Your voice sounds different, though,” he said, and she was surprised at the fact that he heard her, considering how she had some trouble deciphering his words over the sound of Festus’ wings flapping and the wind swirling around them.

“It feels different for sure,” she said, rubbing her neck with a hand, her eyebrows frowning in a disappointed expression, “Back on the island, it was clearer. It was better.”

“I like it just as much,” he replied, and although she couldn’t see his face she knew from his tone that he was smiling, “You sound like a mortal now.”

Calypso raised an eyebrow. “Wow, thank you.”

When he turned slightly towards her, she saw the hint of a smirk on his face (and her heart did not skip a beat, _absolutely not_ ). “I meant it as a compliment.”

She didn’t reply, putting her head on his back once again. 

_I sound like a mortal… is it really a bad thing?_ , she asked herself, lost in thought.

Being a goddess had been draining, to say the least, despite the fact that she never actually did anything exhausting. She had been the very definition of perfection (she was one of the creatures the humans called “celestial beings”, after all), and she knew it – which is why, after a while, any compliment directed at her started to lose its meaning, and she didn’t have anything to look forward to. She was already one of the best.

Being a mortal, on the other hand, was something that she quickly started to appreciate.

She was always tired, hungry or thirsty, or somehow all three at once, yet the sense of fulfillment she felt after succeeding in something filled that little space in her heart that had been empty for far too long, and even when that something didn’t turn out how she wanted it to (like that one time they stopped to check on Festus’ wiring, and she noticed how much harder helping Leo became), she could think, for the first time, “ _I can get better at this. I can learn._ ”

She wasn’t a marble statue carved by an experienced sculptor anymore - her hands stumbled upon the wires, now, and her voice was shaky and raspy when the notes got higher -, but at the end of the day, she realized, it was what she always wanted most.

“I never heard you sing,” she told Leo, out of the blue, as she thought of what kind of singing voice he could have.

She felt his back rumble when he laughed. “You’re dying to hear it, aren’t you? I know, I know, even my voice seems irresistible,” he joked, and she wondered how high could she roll her eyes before they disappeared inside of her skull, “Sorry, Cal, that’s a show for another time! I don’t want us to precipitate because Festus’ brain short-circuited.” He paused as if he remembered something. “Man, I should use a better nickname. This one sounds like California.”

She frowned, unsure of what a ‘ _California_ ’ was. ”It can’t be that terrible. I met many people who sound - sounded, I guess - like dying ravens even when they didn’t sing.” She shrugged. “I’m sure your voice is fine.”

“Are you sure you want to hear me sing?”

“Of course I am!”

“Alright then!”

Spoiler for the future: _she shouldn’t have said that._

She didn’t know what song the words he was singing belonged to - she was quite sure she heard “ _good times_ ” and “ _something, something, Caroline_ ” -, and considering that she was busy not concentrating on the dissonance and the confused vocals she wished she didn’t hear, she didn’t care much, at the moment.

She put her hands over her ears, trying to block out his voice, but other than being off-key he was also being really loud, so that didn’t help her much. On the contrary, it almost made her fall off from Festus: the dragon started to shake, zig-zagging in various different directions, and she would’ve fallen down if she didn’t hold onto Leo.

“What’s happening?” she yelled, unsure if she should start insulting the gods because they were about to die again or thank them because Leo shut up.

“I told you Festus would go haywire!” he replied, yelling just as loudly. He messed with a panel in front of him, frantically trying to find a solution to solve the new big, scary problem. “Shit, we’re going to die! And I already died once, it’s not fair!”

“Can’t you make him glide to a safe spot?” She gestured to an empty field right in front of them. “There are no trees, we can land there!”

Leo tried to direct Festus so that they would not precipitate vertically and crash into the ground. As they were about to collide, Calypso decided that it would be a good idea to send a prayer to the gods.

 _Is there anyone listening to me?_ , she thought, the golden wheat in front of them getting closer by each passing second and the details becoming scaringly clearer. _We might need a hand. Or two. Please._

No gods intervened (not much of a surprise, really) but, at first, it did seem like it.

Calypso held on tight on Festus’ metal plates, screaming her lungs out as she and Leo mentally compiled a list of all the bad things they might have done for facing such a fate.

 _I should’ve stayed on Ogygia_ , she thought, in a panic, clenching her jaw as she readied herself for the impact, _This is the gods punishing us._

Little did she know, the gods didn’t give a damn.

Her stomach tightened, and right when she thought they would crash, Festus’ wings rose up a little, just enough for them to slide over the ground like surfers pulled by a boat. A warm, familiar breeze kissed her skin, rather than causing her pain because of their speed - like it seemed to be doing to Leo, on the other hand, judging by the ‘ _Ouch! Ouch!_ ’ that he seemed to be repeating like a broken record.

She widened her eyes, asking herself whether the winds were helping them or she was being delusional. Before she had time to elaborate on the thought, however, Festus’ mechanical legs stumbled upon the dirt and the wheat, throwing her off balance.

She heard Leo yell her name, as she fell down the seat. Her head hit the ground, and everything went dark.

—

Passing out had been an awful experience. That, Calypso decided, was something she didn’t want to do again.

When she woke up, she felt like she had just been hit by a bull running at her at full force. Her head was hurting in a way she didn’t imagine was even possible (could your head _throb_?) and every inch of her body was aching as if she’d just run ten miles in one second.

As she opened her eyes, she was welcomed by the beautiful sight of the night sky, glittering with stars that seemed to glow even brighter, thanks to her blurry vision. Around her, she saw what seemed to be an open space - as it turned out, though, Festus had just created half a crop circle.

Calypso recalled something about aliens that Leo told her, which made her wonder if that would be once again the mortals’ explanation for what to them seemed like a strange phenomenon, but she decided to leave that thought alone.

She sat up with a groan, rubbing her eyes and muttering a bunch of not-so-family-friendly Greek words. She patted the ground next to her, and she felt the soft wool of the blanket she brought with them under her fingertips; as she turned, her eyesight fell on another blanket folded messily enough to look like a pillow.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Leo said, a couple of feet away, literally immersed in his work - the opening in Festus’ head was enough for making at least one-quarter of his body fit in the hole, and he seemed pretty much happy about it.

“It’s… not morning.”

He chuckled. “I know, I know. How are you feeling?”

He turned to her, and Calypso felt sudden heat rise to her cheeks. Leo wasn’t what she could define as the typical hero in shining armor, not at all - he was quite short for his age, much shorter than, say, Odysseus could have been, and he was so thin that he looked like the breadsticks Hermes once brought to her while visiting her; his hair was unkempt, and his mouth was always curled up in a crooked grin that seemed more fitting on the face of a jester, rather than a demigod. Yet, as stubborn as she was to admit it, she liked every single aspect about him, and the way he looked at her - with a happy and incredulous expression of someone who couldn’t believe they were living such a joy - was enough to make it seem like her heart was playing hopscotch.

“Well, I- Good, I think?” she said, rubbing her cheeks rather than her aching spots, “Is it good if your whole body is hurting?”

“No, not really,” he answered, a look of sympathy on his face saying _I’m sorry you’re going through this_ combined with a tiny amused smile implying _‘Tis but a scratch_ , “You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head against a rock or something, though. The aching will go away in two days’ time.” He put on a worried expression, then, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He rummaged through the supplies he was carrying along - all taken from the island, of course, considering how everything else he might have been carrying with him got burned when he had the brilliant idea to make himself explode -, and he took out a box that contained a bunch of healing supplies - herbs, ointments, ambrosia. “You want some ambrosia? Nectar?”

She was about to say yes, but she decided against it. She was pretty much a rare species, the first Titaness to be ever turned completely mortal. Who knew how her body would react to the food of the gods. “I’ll take the ointment for now.”

As they stayed silent, she rubbed the ointment on her skin, its magic (thankfully still there) seeping through every pore in her skin, sinking in her muscles, giving instant relief to her pain. She sighed, feeling as if she was taking a relaxing bath in warm, scented water.

“It’ll take a day to fix Festus, I think,” Leo informed her, suddenly, his tone casual and calm. He didn’t seem mad, but rather disappointed, as if he had expected something more out of himself. “If I work during the night, it might take a bit less.”

“I’m sorry we fell down, it’s my fault,” she muttered, looking away, “I should have waited until we got to the ground.”

“And I shouldn’t have singed,” he admitted, raising his hands, “I tried it once while we were flying over to your island, for fun, and we fell down in the Mediterranean. Getting all that water out of Festus’ gears…” He whistled. “ _A_ _nightmare_.”

“You should take some lessons,” she proposed, with a smile, “With a good teacher, anyone can improve.”

He raised his eyebrows, an annoying grin appearing on his face. “Well, I see a good _and_ a pretty teacher right in front of me.” She punched him in the arm, lightly, with her face burning once again; he laughed in delight. “ _Ow_ , okay, but seriously, it’d be nice to listen to you while I work, and I might as well learn something. If you’re fine with it, I mean.” He lowered his voice as if he asked her something prohibited, a tiny trace of embarrassment showing up in his features.

Warmness filled her heart, as well as gratitude; she was glad he asked her, rather than requiring it. In the past, many heroes who ended up on Ogygia hadn’t been so gentle with her, nor respectful of her wishes. “ _Mighty Goddess, give me food, I’m starving_ ”, “ _Great Calypso, I want a boat_ ”, “ _Hey Titaness, you’re really cute, how about we get funky?_ ”. It had been very frustrating, and probably one of the reasons why she didn’t really miss being a prisoner on the island.

She smiled again. “Sure. I’ll warn you though, I will just teach you the practical things. We’ll leave the theory to another time.”

“Oh no, I’m totally fine just with the practice!” he said, raising his hands, “You can leave the theory out! Forever, possibly.”

She shook her head, laughing. “Of course. But you’ll need to be well-rested even for that.” She laid down some blankets for him to rest on, pulling him towards them. 

“But–“ he said, in a weak protest, as she was gently putting his head on the blanket-pillow she made.

“Hush now, your mind needs to be fresh. You might mess up something as tired as you look.”

“As if you look any better.”

She looked at him from above, for a moment, as he stared at her defiantly, stubborn as he was; then, she leaned down, placing a light kiss on his forehead, then on the bridge of his nose, then on his mouth, her hair brushing his face, her movements so delicate and hesitating it might seem she was handling a crystal jar. When she rose up again, she saw he was returning her gaze, his dark eyes wide and glittering in the light that the moon - not yet completely dark, and visible enough to shine on the trees and make them visible - cast on them.

“Will this be enough to convince you to go to sleep?” she asked, stubbornly staring despite the strong urge to look away.

“I’ll let you know that this is actually enough to make me question everything and definitely _not_ make me go to sleep.”

“Oh, just rest, Valdez.”

She laid down on her blanket, turning around so that her back was facing him.

“Hey Calypso?”

“Yes?”

“Goodnight.”

She stretched her arm behind her, her left hand touching his.

“Goodnight, Leo.”

—

Calypso tried to teach Leo the basics, in the morning, and she was unhappy to admit he had trouble with most of the songs she tried to make him sing.

The first ones she tried were, of course, some of her favourite hymns - songs she didn’t think of for a long time, considering that most of those she knew were hymns to the gods. Leo’s voice was seemingly unable to sustain the long notes she could sing with ease - as he basically yelled the words, Festus’ wires sizzled, and they stopped for an hour.

Then came the time for the cheery tunes that weren’t deemed worthy for a royal court - Leo compared them to the song of someone called Tiny Tim, but the interpretation he gave of him didn’t sound at all like the tune Calypso chirped.

This time, the dragon’s right wing started fuming.

She kept trying, and trying, and trying again, which only kept increasing the time they would have to stay for Festus’ reparations. Sometimes, the creature lifted its head without reason, his red eyes shining like rubies, a sharp metallic sound coming from its mouth like a bubbling laugh; after that burst of energy, though, its head fell down on the ground again.

At some point, however, right when Leo was giving up after hours of practice, she had an idea.

“Did you ever try to hum a song?” she asked.

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” he replied, “When mom was… well, whenever I was with her, as a child. She would sing fun, catchy songs as she was concentrating on her work, and I hummed along.” He smiled, a bit of sadness in his eyes as he looked at the sky. “No device went haywire back then.”

Calypso took his hand, squeezing it. “We found your musical talent then,” she told him, chuckling lightly.

He looked puzzled, sitting back down near Festus. “That’s hardly singing. Actually, that’s no singing at all.”

“It might not be considered a form of music by some, but it is just as precious as any expression of it,” she explained, making him stand up. Autumn’s winds made their clothes flutter around them, messing up their hair. “Think about lullabies. Soft words, light whispering. But what gives them even more value? What is the sound babies hear right before they slip into their sweet dreams?”

“Humming!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, laughing, “Try to hum something now. Anything, even songs that don’t exist. I’ll accompany you.”

Up until then, she tried to teach him songs she knew and he didn’t, and whatever songs he knew she didn’t, so it was hard for her to instruct him. Besides, even though she never heard them, she was sure they sounded a lot more different than how she heard them from him.

Perhaps, if they sang something new, they would succeed.

After a moment of hesitation, he started. At first, he was hesitant, and the sound that came out was unsure and low. When he gained confidence, however - after Calypso cheered him on, a smile on her face -, he became more relaxed, and that’s when she inserted herself in.

She sang some words in Greek, a poem that she found fitting for the tune he chose, or created. She described a natural scene - the greenest forest ever seen, so lively that even in the night it was impossible to hear it silent, its air so clean and its waters so pure that they were a cure for any sickness; no men lived in it, except for a man and a woman, protectors of the forest, who defended their home from any danger, just as the animals protected them, staying by their side, peaceful and tame. The couple was joyful, and they prospered, living together until their final days. As a reward, the gods allowed them to stay together for eternity, and they became part of nature - the strongest trees, immortal and indestructible so they could keep protecting the land until the dawn of the world.

Leo’s humming made her feel just like when she used to watch the clouds, with the sound of waves washing over the shore in her ears and her feet buried in the sand - calm, peaceful, melancholic. Sometimes, while singing, she paused for a bit too long, distracted by his voice.

They continued singing, song after song, and when they got silent it was almost dawn. Leo had continued working, in the meantime, helped by Calypso, and somehow it seemed like the music accelerated the process. Apparently, just as much as the wrong vibrations could mess him up, a good tune was enough to fix Festus.

”Not bad, Valdez,” she told him, ruffling his hair.

“That was nice,” Leo told her, as the dragon was waking up, a confused clang coming out of his throat, “Hopefully someday I’ll be able to do something more than _hmmm-hmmm_.”

“Didn’t you say Camp Half-blood gave lessons in the arts as well? As soon as we get there, you could take some, and I’ll take some courses as well. You’ll learn how to sing, and maybe I’ll ask some of your siblings if they could teach me how to work with metals.”

He didn’t say anything, at first, muttering the word ‘we’ like he was trying the taste of it on his lips. Then, he turned to her, grinning, “Didn’t think you were the forge type.”

“I was told it’s fun,” she replied, tilting her head and returning the grin, “Besides, if we’re going to set up that garage, I’ll need to know more besides how to weave wires.”

He looked surprised, for a moment; then, with a smile, he kissed her cheek, muttering a “ _Thank you_ ” as he got back to Festus to oil him before they flew off again.

They didn’t stay for long, just enough to eat a meal. They still had time to get to a nearby city, Leo told her, considering how, where there’s a field, there are also houses nearby.

While they were flying, Calypso looked at the sky, her hands once again around the demigod’s waist.

_Leo and Calypso’s Garage, auto-repair and mechanical monsters, fresh fruit and vegetables._

It didn’t sound too bad. Maybe they could add a “singing lessons” sign.

  
  



End file.
